Siblings quarrel. Many would probably agree with the questionable afterthought that sounds like: it is inevitable.
In the atmosphere of rivalry, kids also grow up. Take it as you will, mine did.
In one of those free-for-all seasons when they threw parental control out of the window, the five of them kept at it like warring factions, in constant revolt against each other, as well as against any semblance of authority. Fed up by constant bickering, I angrily asked them to stop.
The squabbling continued. So, home-style martial law was declared. Still, there was no mood shift. In exasperation, my secret weapon to stop this familial warfare was unveiled. An ultimatum was issued: Should they quarrel again, I will sing!
Silence – deafening.
Then, pandemonium amounting to: Don’t even think about it.
“Heavens forbid,” they echoed more vehemently than necessary. “Please, mother, the sound of your singing voice is the worst form of violence that you can inflict on the human ears,” they add. (It behooves to ask the question as to why I got married to a folksinger, the answer to which is entirely self-explanatory.)
If you have heard a malnourished frog croak, you have heard this writer singing in the bathroom as well as on the stage. On the issue of seriously trying hard to carry a tune, my unfortunate children are unanimous: Anything but that. They are firm believers in keeping my singing as a skeleton in the family closet.
In another setting, when sibling wrangling became literal, I took out my WMD (weapon of maternal destruction). I forcefully declared “If you do not stop quarreling once and for all, I will dance!”
Neck-wringing henceforth stopped and fragile peace appeared. Since then, they have kept distance from each other at the dagger-look maximum.
This is a true story.
Until lately when they discovered my firm resolve at giving the dancing feet a chance. The revolt instantaneously fomented.
“What? Is this how far your age has advanced?” they asked. In the same breath, they declared my mental state as bordering on dementia.
I am now waiting for the inevitable ambush bound to sweep me off my feet.
Kids. . .
*N.B. This is another true story.
A famous Philippine movie actress, whose English grammar can only be described as sadly wanting, was interviewed on national television.
Q. How do you feel about the violence in some of your films?
A. Sir, I cannot answer properly about the violins because I do not even play the piano!
This writer, too, cannot play the piano.
March 11, 2011
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